Yesterday I came across the above image, taken on the fifth day of January 2017 at my mother’s house. I gaped at it for a moment and then looked over at my dining room window and back at the image. Different window; (some of the) same art glass, capturing winter light.
Winter light is a precious thing. Even after the Solstice, with the promise of light returning to the hemisphere, January and the first part of February are usually gloomy and overcast. This is the season of hibernation and drift, when some deep impulse tells us to go to ground. When light penetrates—a glint of dawn before the storm front descends; the glare of low-angled daylight on ridges of ice—its intensity is startling.
This is the season of streetlights guttering in the wind, of houses aglow on snowy nights—and of coloured glass on a window-sill, collecting and dispersing light.
A note: today is Epiphany, which in the Christian faith marks the visit of the Magi to the newborn Christ child. Epiphany is a day of illumination, a reminder to look toward the light in a time of darkness.